


Dangerous Liaison

by Caughtinblackseyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2020-05-19 12:06:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19356727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caughtinblackseyes/pseuds/Caughtinblackseyes
Summary: Hermione is sent to Italy to ask the Volturi for help with the War in the hope they will curtail the vampires aligning with Voldemort. Intrigued by Hermione's power, Aro hopes to add her to his collection of gifted Guards.  Hermione meets Edward, already a part of the Guard, who speculates it won't be easy to convince her to join Aro and struggles in staying true to his vow to the Volturi to serve them in all matters without question.





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> This plot bunny has been running around in my heard for awhile. Events will not take place in the most accurate time table in either Twilight and Harry Potter, so just go with the flow. and consider this slightly AU.

Chapter 1

When the tentative knock came on the massive wooden doors of the throne room, Aro had been reading a fascinating scroll almost as old as himself. He generally enjoyed reading after having indulged in a meal and his latest had been particularly delightful. Aristocratic blood was the most divinely flavorful in his opinion. He'd long since discovered this fact after having drained peasants and gentry alike.

In all probability, Blue-bloods were much more suited to his taste having a much higher content of copper than the mere plebeians which Italy harbored in abundance. He didn't partake of this specific cuisine often as royalty of almost any sort were not prone to being overlooked and an investigation into their disappearance inevitably followed. The body that had been recently disposed of had been the bastard of a minor duke; disinherited before birth and sent to grow and live in obscurity and would therefore not be missed. It had been a most fortunate find amongst the feast that had been paraded before him and his brothers by the beauteous Heidi.

Annoyed at the interruption, Aro ordered, “Enter.”

Valentina obeyed with great reluctance, entering with faltering steps. Aro noted she was impeccably dressed while her make-up was as artfully applied as it had been yesterday. Her pleasing countenance befitted the secretary of the Volturi; the perfect human representative of the most prestigious leaders of their Coven. 

“Why have you disturbed our respite,” Aro inquired, tone frosty.

“A thousand pardons, my Lord,” the frightened woman's' voice wavered. “There is a woman waiting in the atrium and she insists on an audience.”

“And, how pray tell did this woman gain admittance without the benefit of an escort,” Caius demanded, blonde brow arching high over a blood-red eye.

Fidgeting, Valentina furthered the mystery by admitting quietly, “I have no idea, my Lords. One moment the alcove was empty and the next... there she stood.”

“Hmmmmm…,” Aro murmured thoughtfully. A brief forward motion of his finger, brought Felix to the forefront of the other guards. “Accompany this over- eager guest into our presence, but do not harm her. If you sense dangerous intent, you may restrain her accordingly.”

With a slight nod, the burly vampire brushed by the quaking human deliberately baring his sharp teeth at her with a low growl, knowing that by the end of the day, she would be vampire fodder for daring to interrupt the Volturi. As Head of the Guard, he would be permitted to partake of her life fluid first for not only was he highly valued, he had yet to feed. Running from her fate would be a useless endeavor for everyone – human and vampire alike – knew of Demetri's infamous tracking abilities which would render an escape attempt a moot point.

Motioning to one of the guards dressed in an almost black robe, Aro said, “Take Valentina back to her desk so that she might clean out her belongings.” The former secretary's eyes widened. “Afterward, take her below.”

“My Lord,” she sputtered, backing away as the Demetri approached. “Please! I beg of you!”

Aro ignored her pleas as she was literally dragged from the room, exiting through a back door which led to a roundabout way to the atrium. Seconds later, the doors opened again admitting Felix and a much younger woman than what any of the Volturi were expecting. There was no discernible fear on her smooth features, and no hesitancy in her gait as she marched toward the dais; clearly she was on a mission. Intriguing. More so, when she stopped mere feet from where he sat, gazing directly into his eyes, her own reflecting determined defiance. He could not recall when a mortal willingly ventured so near one of his kind let alone one as ancient and powerful as he. Yes, very intriguing indeed.

“Greetings,” her voice rang out clear and concise. Not an unpleasant sound to his ear, but unnaturally cool and disengaged for a human. “I appreciate your willingness to see me on such short notice.”

“Your request was such, that to refuse would have been most impolite,” Aro explained in an equally frigid tone, making it clear that her unexplained and unexpected presence was rudeness personified.

From this close, Aro could see the vein throbbing methodically in her temple, but strangely enough he felt no compulsion to feast on her, nor could he detect a specific scent to her blood; a feat unheard of in all his long years, making this meeting all the more fascinating with each passing moment. What other wonders would she reveal, he couldn't help but speculate with relish.

Through gritted teeth, the young woman spoke again sounding less controlled, “I apologize for landing on your doorstep without prior notice, but it was necessary.”

“Really,” drawled an unimpressed Caius. “Explain.”

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

They should never have sent her on this fools errand. Hermione Granger was not cut out to be an emissary, or diplomat, or whatever the hell they expected her to be with this torturous assignment. I mean, really... vampires? In her experience they were useless, senseless creatures with only one goal; to feed on blood, and nothing else seemed as important as their next meal. They were savages and she hated being here asking them for help even though Kingsley had assured her that this was their best option.

He'd insisted it be her since Ron was still being a dunderhead about pretty much everything and it was too dangerous for Harry to leave Britain. There was also the fact that out of the three of them, she was the only one able to Apparate, and being of age it was assured that the Ministry could no longer follow any sort of traveling out of the country, or track the use of her wand since all magical tracking on her was no longer valid. Despite Hermione being the natural choice, she really hated being here.

When a rather large and intimidating vampire strolled over to her, Hermione felt herself squaring her shoulders and setting her face into a mask of indifference. She would not let these creatures strike fear into her even though she had been a personal witness as to what horrors they were capable of inflicting.

Magic was a force to be reckoned with when it came to eliminating vampires; she'd used several fire spells – both taught and invented by herself – with great success. Yet, some had still managed to break through their defenses, killing those close to her along with those she barely knew but who had stood by her side as they’d fought against an onslaught of vampires and other creatures. There had also been cases where wizards and witches had not been killed outright, instead they'd been kidnapped and Godric only knew what nefarious plans the enemy had in store for them.

“I am Felix, Head of the Volturi Guard,” the overly-large mass of marble said in a voice that seemed to echo deeply in his barreled, yet empty chest. “My Masters will see you now. Follow me and do nothing in the way of giving me cause to incapacitate you for I shall not hesitate to use the necessary force to ensure the safety of those who reside within. Understood?”

“Of course,” was Hermione's clipped rejoinder. “My intentions are not to harm. I seek audience only.”

Felix gave a brief nod before reaching for her arm, intent on drawing her closer so as to assure her compliance, distrustful of this small but oddly fearless human. Her answering, “No!” at his action reverberated through-out the chamber, startling him with its unnatural intensity while his hand was thrust firmly away from her by an unseen force. “Do not attempt to touch me again without prior consent,” Hermione commanded angrily, hair crackling with visual sparks.

Fascinated in spite of himself, Felix remarked quietly, “You are more than human.” Hermione snorted at the obvious deduction. Cocking his head to the side, eying her with more interest, he asked, “What are you?”

Ignoring his question, Hermione stated firmly, “My time here is limited. If you would kindly present me to your Masters.”

Felix hesitated a moment, staring intently at this anomaly before saying, “Follow me.”

Hermione was led into a cavernous room, gaze flashing quickly around, taking in the hooded figures lining the walls and on each end of the raised platform where three rather ornate thrones sat occupied by what Hermione correctly surmised were the ones she was here to address. They were old, older than any she had seen in her short lifespan. Curiosity gleamed back at her from one set of eyes, impatient malice from another, and finally bored indifference from the third. Stalking over to the one stationed in the center, she stopped several feet from Aro – for that is who she was sure it was – tilting her chin in recalcitrant angle before getting ready to address the self-proclaimed leader of the Volturi.

“Greetings,” Hermione’s voice echoed off the walls, making her proud that she was able to say that one word with unwavering confidence. “I appreciate your willingness to see me on such short notice.”

“Your request was such, that to refuse would have been most impolite,” Aro explained as if she were a small witless child with no manners to speak of which was rather infuriating.

She wasn’t surprised that this arsehole was going to make her work for it, and through gritted teeth and an aching jaw from being clenched so tightly, she managed to get out, “I apologize for landing on your doorstep without prior notice, but it was necessary.”

“Really,” drawled an unimpressed Caius. “Explain.”

Hermione’s eyes moved toward the one who spoke. Caius, Hermione assumed. Unlike the other vampire who was raven-haired with long, straight locks, this one had short blonde hair slicked back from his narrow, sharp-nosed face reminiscent of that troublesome berk Malfoy. Those red eyes glared at her as he'd asked her to explain her intrusion, sending her hackles rising. Still, she must be as calm and as respectful as possible since doing anything different could very well jeopardize her mission.

“I come on behalf of the Wizarding community,” Hermione began, watching as three sets of eyebrows rose high at her statement. “We are at war with a Dark Lord who threatens the very existence of magical people and our entire world. He seeks to gain control and commit the genocide of those he deems unworthy to live and the enslavement of all others he does allow to survive. He cannot be permitted to succeed.”

“I see,” Aro remarked after a slight pause while tapping his chin as he pondered her words, then finally asked, “What has this to do with us? We know nothing of your world and have not been involved in magical society in some years, therefore I fail to comprehend why you would venture from...”

“Britain,” Hermione supplied even though her accent was a clear indication of her origins. “If Voldemort over-takes the Magical World, he will turn his attention to Muggle Britain with catastrophic consequences.”

Finally, the third party of the Volturi finally spoke. “Muggle?”

“It's the word used for non-magical people, or those who are ignorant of all magic in general. There are some who prefer to use the word Mundane in reference to non-magicals instead of Muggle. Even so, the specific descriptive word is unimportant since their meanings coincide.”

“Continue,” Aro urged, quite taken with this story.

Encouraged by his response, Hermione went on with great urgency in her voice, “Voldemort has gathered dark creatures to do his bidding and amongst those are Giants, Arachnids, Werewolves and...” she paused. Gathering her courage, she added, “... and vampires.”

“You dare?!” Exclaimed an infuriated Caius, thrusting himself upright. Hermione was certain that if it were possible, his face would be a brilliant red in his rage. “You dare refer to us as dark creatures?! We have killed for lesser offense, you insignificant piece of filth! Felix!”

In a flash, Hermione found herself against a brick wall, feet dangling, with a hand as cold as ice grasping her throat to the point of seriously constricting her breathing. Her heart fluttered madly in her chest, pounding out a rapid beat in her ears. She had been in many dangerous situations but this one was really taking the cake and what she needed to do was keep her head, literally as well as figuratively.

Pulling on her magic, Hermione thrust out with all of her might sending the vampire catapulting across the room, crashing into a solid stone bench, demolishing it completely. Snarling, he charged again, barely a blur as he rushed at her, intent on serious damage if not death. Disillusioning herself, Hermione was able to avoid his attack by side-stepping at the last minute. Her specially designed time-turner had allowed her to slow his demented onslaught to her eyes only; to everyone else, he was moving blindingly fast. The device was a god-send to out-maneuvering the super speed that all vampires possessed.

Hermione stayed hidden, watching as the one called Felix roared at his prey eluding him. Then, he stopped and began sniffing the air like a dog. He was scenting her, Hermione realized. Well, she thought with grim satisfaction, she had come prepared for that as well. Before Hermione had even crossed the threshold of this room, she had cast a Non Nidore spell mixed with a Neminem Percutere, effectively masking her scent and heartbeat. Another useful variation on two spells that she and Remus had perfected after much trial and error. It had been a team effort and the loss of one of her dearest friends and collaborators at the hands of a creature such as the one chasing her, had left her sorely bereft.

She moved swiftly until she found herself far enough away to avoid being grabbed by this icicle menace but close enough that when she issued a non-verbal spell, it struck him square in the torso. Hermione smirked when a ball of fire erupted on his cloak quickly enveloping the fabric. A small gurgle escaped her as she watched him dance around, trying desperately to put out the flames. Finally, in desperation, he unclasped the cloak from his neck, flinging the flame-engulfed garment to the floor where the flames petered out at her silent command.

Hearty laughter and applause filled the chamber. Confused, Hermione noted that Aro was smiling widely, clapping his hands together; clearly enjoying the spectacle. “Well done, little one,” he congratulated. “Felix, return to your post.” The Neanderthal obeyed, looking both annoyed and impressed.

Feeling it was safe do so, Hermione revealed herself. “I meant no offense,” she assured them. “I speak only the truth.” Turning her gaze toward a fuming Caius, she said quietly, “I have been reliably informed that the Volturi are unlike the vampires of our world and therefore do not fall under the title of dark creatures.” A lie if there ever was one, Hermione thought nastily, but she needed to do some damage control.

Ignoring her explanation, Caius demanded waspishly, “What sorcery is this?”

Clicking his tongue in mild reproof, Aro remarked casually, “Miss…”

“Granger,” Hermione supplied. “Hermione Granger.”

“Miss Granger is a witch and it has been centuries since we’ve dealt with one of her kind. She did say she came from the Wizarding World, Caius or were so far into your thoughts of dismembering her that you missed that detail?” With false politeness Aro informed her, “I apologize for my Brother; when bothered he resorts to petty name-calling which is unpardonable.”

Lips twisting into a derisive smirk, Hermione remarked calmly, “I’ve been called filth before.” Rubbing absently at her arm, she added, “And, much worse.”

Caius sank back into his throne clearly surprised with this turn of events. “She should be killed before any more destruction can be inflicted. She and others like her are a threat to our existence.”

“Peace, Brother.” Aro gently commanded. “If harm had been her intent, Felix would be but a pile of ash at our feet. You are skilled for one so young. What is your age?”

Balking at the question, Hermione exclaimed, “Age has nothing to do with experience or talent. I’ve been fighting in one way or another since I was twelve years of age.”

“My, oh my. Such power you must possess.” His words were glib but his expression held a look of such stark avarice that it made Hermione very uncomfortable. “If you would,” he inquired while holding out his hand.

Hermione had been warned of his vampire-gift and had prepared herself for this particular request. Her instinct was to decline, but that would only make her either look weak or be an extreme faux pas and not well-received at all. Stepping closer, she placed her hand in his, shuddering when his other covered it giving her much smaller and frail one a marginally painful squeeze before shutting his eyes and letting out a blissful sigh.

Disappointment crossed his hard features before reluctantly releasing her. “Your memories and thoughts are hidden from me. I have had such a thing happen only once before.” Off to the side, Hermione caught movement from one of the cloaked figures before Aro commanded, “Come, Edward.” 

The figure moved closer but Hermione couldn’t see beyond the dark void of his hood. With a small motion of Aro’s finger, the figure flung back his cowl revealing one of the most beautiful vampires Hermione had ever seen. Thankfully, she was immune to their lethal allure, but she could appreciate his looks on a purely ascetic level. His slightly mussed copper-colored hair sat over an almost too-pretty face, but it was his eyes that caught her attention. When his long, sooty lashes flew off of his chiseled cheeks, Hermione found herself gaping inelegantly. They were as bronze as his hair. Here was a vampire who drank from animals, foregoing the usual diet of human blood. Fascinating.

“Tell me, Edward, can you read her mind?”

Immediately, Hermione felt a subtle nudge to the barriers protecting her thoughts and nudged him back far more forcefully causing him to stumble slightly. Cocking his fine-featured head to the side, he said with curiosity mixed with an odd tinge of sadness, “No, my Lord. Her thoughts are her own.”

A woman’s voice broke through the silence. “If I may, Master?”

She was tiny, smaller than even Hermione. Blonde hair pulled back tightly, eyes filled with a crazy, eager excitement that would have looked far too at home on Bellatrix’s twisted face. This creature was by far the most disturbing thing Hermione had come across in this little get-together. 

“I think not, Jane,” Aro demurred, causing Jane’s face to fall into petulant disappointment.

“Tell me, Edward, was it similar to that of your dear, sweet Isabella?”

Aro drew out the name with a sibilant, sardonic quality and Hermione saw a flash of rage mingled with raw pain on the vampire before it was concealed behind a placid mask. “No,” was his brief and succinct reply.

“Ahhh… How is she different?”

Edward met the eyes of the intriguing witch again before saying with complete composure, “There is a wall blocking my way,” Then, he explained quietly, “Bella,” – he paused, the pale smoothness of his throat constricted as if swallowing passed a hard lump – “Bella’s mind was an empty abyss whereas this human’s thoughts churn and fly; this I can sense, but the wall is strong. Short of using a battering ram, I doubt that I could penetrate this barrier. To try would be folly. Her magic, like her thoughts, are very potent. She has already forced me out once. I imagine she would set me on my hind-end as she did with Felix should I attempt to breach that barrier.”

Hermione remarked with renewed spirit, “You bet your pretty face I’d send you reeling head-over-arse if you ever try something like that on me again!”

“You find me attractive,” Edward asked with a slight, cynical twist to his lips.

“Oh, get over yourself,” she exclaimed. “All vampires are attractive, but your allure – or should I say lure – is lost on me. None of you will be reeling me in anytime soon, I assure you.”

“This is most entertaining,” Aro inserted himself into the conversation; watching the two with keen interest as their battle continued silently; staring hard at each other with neither one intent on breaking off eye contact first. “As well as most enlightening. Tell me, are all of the magical community immune to us, like yourself?”

Breaking away from their staring contest, Hermione spoke honestly. “No. It takes a great deal of training to perfect the shields I’m using. Most magical people are able to fend off a vampire’s allure to a certain extent. It’s something to do with our magical core trying to protect itself. There are those less strong – she would not use the word weak with these things – who instinctively know something isn’t right, but still succumb.”

“Must we continue with this farce,” Caius challenged, eyes spitting venom. “You will not find the help you seek here from us, witch!”

“Now, let’s not be hasty, Brother,” Aro rebuked him with a smile as smarmy as that of a used car salesman. “Giving them assistance might be of some benefit to us. After all, a favor owed can be a most fortuitous thing to have in our possession.”

This was troubling. Hermione had been sent with a list of terms that she wasn’t supposed to deviate from, and here Aro was speaking of favors. She could not allow him to think that such a thing would be taking place. Merlin only knew what the Volturi would want in return, and she wasn’t about to open that crazy can of worms.

“I have come with a list of pre-approved conditions set by our Minister of Magic and was explicitly told to not offer anything more or less. I will say, that an alliance between us against Voldemort would be beneficial to you in numerous ways.”

“How delightful,” Aro purred, making Hermione’s skin crawl. “Continue.”

Licking her lips nervously, Hermione said, “We would allow free access to the Wizarding World by vampires willing to curb their appetite while in the presence of the witches and wizards who reside there. Banking and business ventures would be open to you and laws for fair treatment of your kind would be reviewed so that vampires will no longer be hunted as animals unless they go rogue and harm someone. Your kind will be allowed to petition for seats of power in the Wizengamot – a wizarding parliament and law-making forum in our world. Trade of rare herbs, magical devices, and other approved items which could then be sold here to the magical community in Italy, overseas, or to the Muggle community in which you have ties to. All of this would enlarge your bank account significantly and we do have products at our disposal that could ensure your existence remain elusive to the human eye.”

“Is that all,” Aro asked with a haughty angled brow.

Hermione nodded. “For now, yes,” 

Rubbing his chin reflectively, he mused aloud, “What of magical protection?”

Frowning, Hermione said, “As I stated, we will give you all products at our disposal to ensure you privacy from prying eyes including wards to protect you from outside dangers.”

“I was thinking of something more personal in the way of protection but let us leave that topic for now. Miss Granger, in return, what would you have us do?”

“My understanding is that you and your followers are the Law when it comes to vampires and breaking the code of secrecy?”

“Just so,” Aro agreed amiably.

“We request that you take the vampires attacking our world and either rehabilitate them…” Caius snorted. “Or do with them as you wish. If Voldemort wins this war, his grasp will spill over into the Muggle world and vampires will be exposed to non-magicals. If that is the case, how long before Muggles use their weapons of mass destruction on all of your kind; hunting you down until not one of you remain?”

“You paint a grim picture, indeed,” Aro allowed. “If we were to either incapacitate these vampires or destroy them, is it a certainty that you will win this war?”

Hermione could not give them that guarantee. They would have a better chance, that much was absolute, but to say they would have a definitive victory? Her conscience would not allow her to lie. Reluctantly, she said, “No, but it would level the playing field dramatically.”

“I see,” he murmured, lips pursing in thought. “Before committing ourselves to your cause, I would have a representative return with you to ‘case out’ the situation. Is that not the correct idiom?”

“Yes,” Hermione declared, before stating firmly. “However, I would caution you on your idea of sending anyone back with me. I’m not sure I can guarantee their safety. War is perilous and even our allies would hesitate in accepting someone of your kind.” At Aro’s frown of annoyance, Hermione continued, “I promise that we will change the laws pertaining to vampire rights after we have won, but secrecy is of great import at this juncture and my fellow soldiers – for lack of a better word – might not wish to take the chance on the enemy learning of our plans and while I don’t believe your emissary would do so, it is a risk.”

Leaning forward slightly, Aro questioned, “And, if I were to give my word that whomever I send with you would not betray your secrets or confidences?”

He was putting Hermione in a pickle. The situation was hanging by a thread and one wrong move could send it all crashing down. She needed some time. Time to think and time to contact Kingsley. She was of the opinion that it would be a definite no-go but desperate times and all of that.

“Before parlaying further on this specific subject, I would have to contact the Minister with your request,” she prevaricated.

“Of course,” Aro drawled, sounding agreeable to her terms. “We would be most pleased if you would stay here with us until you are able to contact your Minister and garner his opinion on the matter.”

Hermione blanched. “I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble,” she managed to say without stammering.

Waving his hand in a welcoming gesture, while bowing slightly from his seated position, he remarked cordially, “It will be no trouble at all, I assure you.”

And, there it was again. That smarmy used car salesman grin; slimy and looking as though he was getting exactly what he wanted while cheating out the other party. Hermione hoped to heaven she wouldn’t regret what she was about to do.

Bowing slightly in return, Hermione replied, “Then, I accept your kind offer.”

Sharply clapping his hands to together once, Aro exclaimed loudly with a delighted, predatory grin, “Excellent! Felix. Edward. Please escort the lovely Miss Granger to one of our finest guest suites. I suggest the green rooms. Yes, they will do nicely.” Sparing her another creepy smile, Aro went on, “Until tomorrow then, my dear. I do so look forward to furthering our conversation and have no fear, a guard will be posted at your door the entire night to ensure your safety.”

This did not make Hermione feel in the least bit safe. She would put up her own wards when she reached her room and only then would she feel a modicum of ease. Until that could be accomplished, she would maintain constant vigilance. When both of the appointed escorts reached her side, Felix offered his arm in a courtly gesture that surprised her and apparently the other vampire – Edward – as well if his deep frown was anything to go by.

“That isn’t necessary,” Hermione demurred. “I can manage on my own if you’ll lead the way.”

“If you are seen being familiar with me, no one would dare attempt to gain access to your rooms during the night,” Felix explained helpfully. “My reputation as a fiercely consummate and deadly opponent will keep those who choose to try their luck at bay. There are few who would dare to not heed the word of our Masters – but they do exist – and fewer still who would take me on and survive. You are the only one who has ever bested me.”

Blushing slightly at the implied compliment, Hermione tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow saying, “I didn’t intend to embarrass you.”

As they walked out of the room, Felix glanced down into her upturned face. “You did not embarrass me, Miss Granger. You have impressed me with your abilities. You have much power for one so young and you wield it as a combatant of old. If I may, how many years are you?”

With a tired sigh, Hermione informed him, “I’m seventeen but most days I feel ten times that. A good portion of my childhood up to now has been spent fighting either for my life or those of the people I love most.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Seventeen, Edward thought morosely as he followed slightly after the pair. The same age as when he was turned and already she was a soldier – a warrior – with scars both physical and mental. Jasper would have understood this enigma much better than he, but she was a fascinating little thing. Spirited and stubborn; like Bella. Yet, also very unlike Bella.

Where Bella had been an open, sweetly vulnerable and a delightfully charming girl – her every expression had been worn on her sleeve for all to view – this witch was tremendously closed off and reticent. In comparison, it was clear that Bella had been a imprudent and guileless child with no actual awareness or knowledge beyond her scant teen-aged years; kind and loving, to be sure, but she hadn't seen the evil that he had, and what evil she had seen, had not changed her. She had maintained her naive belief that good would prevail and all souls could be saved. Not at all like this one speaking softly to Felix. She was not a child as Bella had been; she was a woman. A woman who had clearly seen far too much death and destruction for one so young.

A voice invading his mind put an end to his musings. Edward, you will stand guard over Miss Granger.

Meaning no disrespect, Master but Felix is by far the stronger and would be better suited to that task.

Normally that would be the case. In this instance you are the better choice for if anyone should think of harming her, you will be able to hear their thoughts well before they reach her room.

They would not dare! Your word is sacrosanct.

True, but there are those who will still choose to go against my word in an effort to usurp Felix's place as Head of the Guard after seeing how Miss Granger easily defeated him. Therefore, certain imbeciles will take it upon themselves to prove their worth by dispatching an opponent that Felix seemingly could not in an effort to rise among the ranks. Fools who will not take into account the monumental power that Miss Granger has in droves and could utilize with nary a twitch of her little finger. You will stay by her side, Edward and dispatch of any you hear may have thoughts of harming her. Understood?

Of course, Master. I am at your service.

Internal conversation at an end, Edward set himself a faster pace, having fallen in arrears of the pair. Felix was unusually taken with her; his thoughts of appreciation at her skill in surpassing him were running through his mind. He thought this small warrior-witch worthy of his esteem, which was rare since Felix generally thought no one his equal and treated others with general disdain. Yet, here he was, speaking to her benevolently; Edward would even go so far as to infer that Felix was treating her with a degree of affection. 

It was very odd, but it was there in his compatriots mind. Could this woman be Felix’s mate? It would explain much, and while it was rare for a vampire to find his mate in a human, this Hermione Granger was no mere human. When he had met Bella, his nonexistent heart had skipped a beat, filling with a blooming warmth long since denied him. Edward felt a sharp, self-loathing pang of regret at the thought of her unreserved love. In the end, he had destroyed her by leaving which had led to his own ultimate destruction although he still existed in this cold, empty shell.

Aro had plans for the little witch. Edward had seen it although he didn’t often tread into the minds of the Volturi. His brief touch on Aro’s had been enough. Whereas Caius’ thoughts were chaotic and ruled by his volatile emotions, Aro’s was quite disciplined and as such, Edward saw events from the past, present and future at the same time, making it difficult to discern his true objective. Still, Edward knew better than to trespass because punishment would be swift and painful and since they were now his Masters, he owed them the respect of giving them their privacy. 

This woman was nothing more than another pawn in Aro’s mind. Someone he could use to his advantage. Someone he could exploit and in the process, he would attempt to exploit her innate power as a witch. Such was the glimpse that he was able to see, and while he couldn’t pass the strength of her barriers, Edward doubted very much that Hermione Granger would be led meekly down the path of Aro’s bidding. Chuckling for the first time in ages, Edward was absolutely certain that she was going to be force to be reckoned with.


	2. Discussing Art

Chapter 2

Hermione surprised herself by enjoying her conversation with the mammoth hill known as Felix. He genuinely seemed to enjoy her company as well. When he wasn't pushing her up against a wall, or attempting to engage her in a fight, she found him to be quite charming. This came as serious surprise to Hermione since all of her interactions with their species led to nothing other than bloodshed. He asked intelligent but non-invasive questions on her life as a witch correctly surmising that there was certain information she wouldn't be willing to share.

As Felix had informed her, they did pass several other vampires who eyed her up as if she were a particular piece of juicy fruit that they would love to sink their teeth into, but just as Felix had also told her, they all gave him apprehensive glances while giving him a wide berth. Even so, Hermione found herself moving a bit closer to her escort as more and more cloaked vampires filled the passage way.

Hermione was also acutely aware of the younger vampire following a short distance behind. He was silent but she could practically hear the wheels turning in that good-looking head of his. While most of the faces in the throne room had been basically inscrutable, this one had showed uncharacteristically strong emotions and she couldn't help but wonder who this Isabella was who had caused such a strong reaction. Someone he loved perhaps? It must be so and she felt a strong flare of anger on his behalf considering how insensitive Aro had been in regard to Edward's feelings for this mysterious woman.

The idea that vampires could feel any kind of strong emotions for a human stymied Hermione. Clearly, the Volturi had their own best interests in their non-existence hearts, while their followers were puppets under their control which was why Edward's obvious visceral response was so odd to her. She hated to admit that she was finding that whole scenario with him intriguing and anything that she found interesting was something she tended to want to study further. Perhaps she'd have the opportunity to learn more while she was here. It would at least keep her mind occupied while residing in this strange, unknown environment.

Felix was also fascinating in his own way, but was less of a mystery and therefore she wasn't as interested in getting to know him the way she was Edward. Glancing briefly over her shoulder as she listened to Felix explain certain aspects of being part of the Guard, she noted the broodiness exuding from the vampire who physically appeared to be about her own age. Suddenly, his head lifted and his golden gaze clashed with her own and Hermione took a slight in-drawn breath at his naked beauty.

She hadn't been lying when she'd said that she was immune to their allure, but wow... he was still really something to look at and even Hermione wasn't unaffected to such perfection much like how she'd appreciate the beauty of anything terribly and inexplicably exotic. She couldn't help but wonder what color his eyes had been before the change. Would they match the amazing symmetry of those cheekbones? Felix was still chatting away but her mind was focused on the slight frown that had now settled between Edward's brows.

She startled them all by abruptly stopping in her tracks with Edward nearly running into the back of Felix who slightly stumbled at their unexpected halt. Turning fully toward Edward who was now standing less than twelve inches from her, she asked, “How old were you when you were turned?”

His frown deepened. A few seconds passed before he answered. “About the same age as you appear to be.”

Nodding, Hermione continued, “I thought as much although in a few months I'll be eighteen.” His infinitesimal flinch was not lost on her. He really was an anomaly. “I couldn't help but notice the color of your eyes. If I am correct, their hue indicates that when you feed it is off of the blood of animals?”

“You are correct,” was his simple, and to Hermione's mind, inadequate answer.

Her curiosity winning out over good manners, Hermione pushed on, “I can't help but wonder why that would be when everyone else here seem to partake of a quite different diet. Surely you are an oddity settled amongst the rest of the Guard.”

“Edward came to us a drinker of animals,” Felix entered the conversation. “We have been unable to dissuade him of this abhorrent habit, but as he has only been with us half of a year, the probability that he will retain those yellow eyes is debatable.”

“Has he no choice in the matter,” Hermione asked with asperity. “If Edward wishes to maintain a 'vegetarian' diet so to speak, shouldn't that be up to him?”

Edward remained tight-lipped while Felix answered. “It is considered a weakness and the Volturi do not entertain weakness of any kind. Edward is merely being granted an indulgence by his Masters, but they will eventually insist that he conform to our ways for that is their true wish.”

Crossing her arms over her heaving chest, she demanded angrily, “So, they are intent on turning him into a biddable monster, is that what you are saying?”

“I am already a monster,” Edward declared forcefully. “Do not mistake the color of my eyes as a sign of some form of misbegotten humanity, nor that my allegiance is not totally to the Volturi. I came here to die, but they offered me an alternative which I have obviously embraced.” Almost to himself he added quietly, “Though most days I regret that I bent to their request.”

Hermione could not believe here ears. “You honesty believe that you are a monster?” She'd never come across such a thing having only experienced those of his kind yapping on about their superiority and none would never have referred to themselves as monstrous. “Vampires generally strive to exist for as long as possible, selfishly grasping onto any means available to make sure they carry on. Why did you want to die?”

Eyes flashing bitterly, he bit out savagely, “My reasons are of no concern to you! This I will tell you, in my more than one hundred years of existence, I have done deeds that would be deemed horrific by human standards. If you are quite finished digging into my past, madam... your quarters are just ahead and you look both tired and disheveled leading me to the supposition that you are in need of sustenance, an opportunity to cleanse yourself and some rest.”

Hermione couldn't prevent the embarrassed flush that crawled up her neck. She had been abominably rude, yet she had to know his reasoning on dwelling with these things when he was clearly of a different caliber. She had read about vampires whose main source of nutrition were animals and all that she had read indicated that not only were they few in number, but they led relatively peaceful lives, harming no one. In her quest for further knowledge on the subject she had greatly offended him.

“I'm sorry,” she muttered sincerely. “It was unpardonable to question you like that and my only excuse being that I haven't come across someone such as yourself. I have read of your sort of vampire but the information available is modest and I couldn't pass up the chance to learn more.”

Edward took a moment, staring intent into her genuinely remorseful gaze before giving a slight nod as acceptance of her apology. Raising his arm, he indicted that they continue forward and he said, “Your rooms are ready and a fire has been laid out for you. Please, let us continue so that you might rest before contacting your Minister.”

“Yes,” Felix agreed while once again presenting his arm to Hermione. “Come, Miss Granger.” Taking it again with a light grasp, he gracefully pivoted them both before saying, “I believe you will find these quarters to your liking. Generally, they are set aside for various visiting dignitaries.”

“I'm honored,” Hermione mumbled, falling into step with Felix, Edward following closely.

Moments later, they stopped in front of a beautifully carved door. It was ornate without being distasteful unlike the thrones the Volturi had been seated on. It looked heavy and when Edward stepped forward grabbing onto the circular iron handle, he easily pulled open a door that Hermione could now see was at least two feet in depth if not more. She doubted a battering ram could make even the smallest dent since is was also riddled with several stone and metal slabs between the wood. As for keeping a vampire out? That she wasn't so sure on.

Grimacing, she asked, “How the hell am I supposed to get out if I want to? That thing looks like a weighs a ton.”

Grinning, Felix corrected her, “Two tons, actually. It's made so that you don't get out. Our intentions are not to keep you a prisoner inside.” At the skeptical rise of an eyebrow, he assured her, “It is an added layer of safety. Many who have stayed with us, grow curious and have been tempted to leave their quarters to investigate even though they had been informed to do so could lead to disastrous results. After several unfortunate deaths, my Masters had the door reinforced so that even those tempted to leave would be denied due to the heaviness of the door. As I explained on our way here, there might be those eager to succeed where I have failed in besting you. Although our Masters have deemed you off limits, that warning will not suffice to those who wish to rise above the ranks in the Guard.”

“I am able to protect myself as you have seen,” Hermione proclaimed tightly.

“And when you sleep,” Edward asked with a wry twist to his lips. “In your studies you must have come across the fact that we do not require sleep such as yourself. Because of that, you could be taken unawares during your slumber.”

Pursing her lips into a mutinous moue, Hermione replied in a clipped tone, “I have plans on setting up my own protective barriers. No one and I mean no one would ever be able to breach them unless I give my permission and usually it requires a certain amount of your blood to pass through since they will be blood wards.”

“Ah,” Felix exclaimed I understanding. “Since blood does not flow through our veins, we would not ever be able to pass this barrier with your permission or without it.”

“That's about the gist of it,” she replied with a smug smile.

“Very clever, Miss Granger,” Felix applauded her with genuine warmth. “Your abilities are varied it would seem. I am truly looking forward to conversing with you at length.”

“I can't promise to reveal all of my secrets,” Hermione informed him. “But I would enjoy an exchange of information with you as well. The intricacies of the Guard are utterly fascinating and I wouldn't mind hearing your own personal story.”

“Perhaps that could be arranged,” he agreed amiably. “If you would in turn share what I presume to be fascinating incidents from your own life pertaining to this War you speak of.”

Edward noted the shadow that briefly passed over her features before she said quietly, “Most of the interesting details are those I wish I could forget since the loss of so many I hold dear is very new and particularly painful. I'm not ready to go poking around in those wounds.”

“I understand,” was Felix's immediate reply, but Edward was doubtful that he actually did.

He had been in Felix's company long enough to know that the other vampire rarely understood anything that didn't immediately affect himself. Yet, as he careful prodded Felix's mind, he did detect regretful thoughts on this woman's behalf. To Edward, it was utterly baffling that his compatriot did indeed appear to care enough to not to continue to delve into her agonizing past.

Changing the subject to something less touchy, Hermione sighed while saying, “I suppose there's nothing I can do about the door and I hadn't any plans to go off wandering anyway. Still, as I said before, I will also be putting up my own wards. After I've eaten and rested, I'll contact the Minister since I assume you're not connected to the floo system. I'll have to send a Patronus, although at this distance, it'll take a great deal of magical energy.”

“These are ways in which the Wizarding people communicate,” Edward asked, surprised and curious.

“That's two of the avenues we use and we also use owls,” Hermione explained. “I don't suppose you have any of those by chance?”

Edward looked at her as if she were nuts while Felix chuckled, then said, “No owls, but we do have bats and vultures, if you so desire.”

Hermione's eyes widened to comic proportion sending Felix into a gale of deep laughter which filled the corridor surprising many of those making their way along. Edward was surprised as well. In the six or so months that he'd been with the Volturi, he had yet to see any of the Guard crack a smile that wasn't demented, insincere, predatory or more in league with a sneer. Felix was definitely smitten and the thought of mates once again crossed his mind. If it were so, Aro's plans on recruiting her might be that much easier.

Her own pretty caramel colored orbs narrowed speculatively. “You're teasing me,” she determined letting out a tiny huff of amusement.

“I could not resist,” Felix admitted with another chuckle. “My Masters do have access to ravens which are used on occasion for communication to those on far off lands without the benefit of electricity. I will inquire for you.”

“That would be wonderful. The sooner I have access to a raven, the sooner I can get word to the Minister.”

“Of course, Miss Granger. I will see to it momentarily after I have procured protection at the door for the evening.”

“Aro has requested that I stay as Miss Granger's protection,” Edward informed a surprised Felix.

“You? An interesting choice considering my strength surpasses your own,” Felix replied, face set in a doubtful expression.

“It's true that you are stronger but I am faster as well as having an ability which you lack.”

Realization dawned on the other vampire. “I see. If that is Aro's wish, then of course I will obey.” Turning toward Hermione, Felix said quietly, “I am sorry that our time together has ended so abruptly. In the morning I will see to your request on borrowing a raven. Until then, Edward will take up post outside your door for safety precautions even though you have made it abundantly clear that you need no such protection from us. Never-the-less, please allow us to follow the orders issued by our Masters.”

“Okay,” she whispered back.

Keeping eye contact with the young witch, Felix commanded gently, “Do not leave this room. Everything you require is provided within these walls. If you were a mere mortal, no force other than our own would have the ability to move this door. I have witnessed your abilities therefore, I am not naive enough to think that this wood, stone and metal to be immune to your powers.” When Hermione didn't dismiss his charge, he reiterated with soft force, “For your sake and ours, do not venture outside of this chamber.”

Nodding, Hermione answered truthfully, “I won't, I promise. I wouldn't want either of you to get into trouble because of me.”

Smiling softly, Felix took her hand, turned it so that the underside of her wrist was visible before raising it to his mouth brushing a feather-light kiss onto the fragrant flesh. “Fie ca somnul tău să fie profund și liniștit. Fie ca visele tale să fie bune și adevărate. Fie ca lumina zorilor să cadă încet pe contabilitatea ta până când ne întâlnim din nou.”

Hermione had no clue what those words meant, but it was said with such feeling that she felt a blush glowing brightly on her cheeks at the strange intense formality of it.

“Th... thank you.”

Then, he was swiftly walking to the end of the corridor, turning the corner and leaving her alone with her other escort.

“He likes you,” Edward commented quietly.

“Is that unusual?”

“Yes,” was his less than verbose response.

“Care to elaborate,” Hermione pushed. For a moment he just looked at her and Hermione felt as if she were being evaluated and scrutinized.

“Felix is cautious on who he chooses to associate with. Demetri is the closet thing he has to a best friend although Felix doesn't really have friends; none of the Guard do. There are just those who prefer to be in each others company.”

“And you,” she wondered aloud. “Are there those in the Guard you prefer to associate with as well?”

Scoffing slightly, he said, “You heard Felix. I'm an oddity amongst them. Considered weak because of my chosen way of life. Generally, I'm avoided unless I'm sent on a mission for the Volturi. I work efficiently with all of them when the need arises.”

Biting her lip, Hermione replied softly, “I understand being considered different; an outcast. The majority of my childhood was an excruciating experience of being the odd-man out. Until I met Harry and Ron, I was constantly on my own with books as my only companions.”

Smiling slightly, Edward confessed, “I find solace in my books and music. The library here is immense.”

Edward nearly laughed out loud at the sudden gleam of excitement in those lovely eyes of hers at the mention of the library. Clearly, this woman enjoyed a good book and what it had to offer; Edward could respect that.

“Do you think I could visit the library,” she asked with a hopeful, earnest expression, excitement bringing an enchanting tinge of pink to her cheeks.

Edward was astonished to note that she was very pretty in an understated fashion. Much like his Bella had been, although in his eyes, his lost love had been the epitome of beauty and although she had been pale and slender, there had been nothing sickly or ill in her appearance, whereas the witch before him had clearly been through the ringer. Purple bruises sat beneath her whiskey colored eyes while her cheekbones thrust out sharply from the sallow, smooth contours of her face. It appeared as of she hadn't seen a decent meal in ages. Still, she carried herself with a composed dignity and a fierce pride which served to illuminate her features to a higher standard than the sort of self-evident beauty which Rosalie possessed.

Basically, Edward had been doing well with not thinking on his former-family, but times like this, when he was making comparisons, he couldn't stop himself. Many here 'ribbed' him on maintaining his vegetarian diet and he was often encouraged to give up that particular lifestyle as the final break from his previous life. Long ago, he'd rebelled against Carlise by going off on his own and drank from humans only to find that the guilt of doing so went a long way into tempering that particular yen. Now and again, he still craved that taste of blood not originating from animals. Such was the case when he first met Bella, but after leaving her he'd found it surprisingly easy to forgo.

Pushing all thoughts of the inhabitants of Forks aside, Edward answered her query. “I don't see a problem with a visit to our expansive library. I'm sure there are several tomes and scrolls that Aro will proclaim off-limits, but other than that, my Masters are generally quite magnanimous and encourage the pursuit of knowledge.”

Smiling widely, Hermione replied with excitement coloring every word. “That's wonderful! I can't wait to see what delights your library harbors!” Suddenly, her pretty face fell before she added, “Of course, it all depends on how long I'll be here. The Minster of Magic will have the final say.”

Cocking his bronze head to the side, Edward assured with a smile of his own, “There are several fascinating tomes in your room. Their titles are varied and previous guests have, for a lack of better word, gushed over the content, quality and numerous choices available to them.” Interest flared in her eyes; a true hunger for learning that Edward found himself admiring. “Shall we,” he invited while pushing the heavy door open further.

The room Hermione entered was large. Large and beautifully set up. As Edward had promised, a fire had been lit and it glowed and crackled warmly in the ancient fireplace spreading a comforting heat all about the confines of the chamber. It had indeed been decorated in green although thankfully not in the tint of green most associated with the Slytherins. Instead, it was trimmed in a light, minty shade meant to put its occupants as ease.

The color wasn't over-done and had been mainly used as an elegant accent shade off-setting the highly polished stones of the walls and the sheer, cream silk linens hanging from the four posts of a king-sized bed. The furniture was an interesting mixture of 18th century French and Italian yet the pieces still managed to go together cohesively while various sized and colored rugs of indeterminate origin and age were strategically strewn throughout.

Hermione was stunned by the artwork covering the walls which ran from several awe-inspiring Greek and Minoan frescoes to what looked to be tapestry's of the Mythology she adored and one seemed to be about a personal favorite. Moving closer to the fragile looking cloth, she breathed an awe-struck sigh and said, “That's Hades and Persephone, isn't it?”

Startled at her knowledge, Edward came to her side admiring the artwork before agreeing. “Yes. It's called: Hades and Persephone. Not very original, I dare say. It's circa 340 BC.”

“Their story has always fascinated me,” she admitted.

Edward greeted her surprising announcement with a startled expression. “I would never have guessed. You seem to be a very independent woman and yet the abduction of Persephone by Hades – her uncle no less – fascinates you which is quite the conundrum.”

“Don't get me wrong, I don't condone how he went about expressing his ardor,” she hastened to assure him. “It was completely arse-backward but in the end it turned out to be a genuine love match.”

“Did it,” Edward queried with skepticism. “Hades took a young girl against her will and forced her to dwell in the dark abyss of his world. When she stated that all she wanted was to return to her mother, he made sure that she couldn't.”

“Ah, you're referring to the pomegranate seeds,” Hermione mused. “I suppose that's true, yet Hades genuinely loved her and I can't help but admire his tenacity. He did everything in his power to earn her affections when most would have just given up at the initial rebuff. He found her worthy of wooing until she finally succumbed to her own burgeoning feelings and he wasn't harsh or mean about it either.”

Edward was intrigued by the wistfulness in her voice. “Some would say he used a form of brainwashing on the helpless girl while others would say she became resigned to her fate. This story seems contrary to your own apparent disapproval of forcing anyone to do anything against their will. I can't help but think had it been you, you would have fought tooth and nail to escape Persephone's eventual outcome.”

Nodding, Hermione glanced over at his pristine profile. “You're right. I wouldn't take kindly to having my choice in the matter taken from me, nor would I just give up and give in. At the same time, I can't help but think that their coming together was inevitable. Out of all the Greek Gods, he was the only one who remained faithful to his wife and by all accounts he had no lovers before Persephone. 

Edward's head jerked back, and then his topaz gaze slid to meet her own. In a voice unknowingly filled with poignant yearning, Hermione continued, “I've often thought that his heart was as cold and hard as the black onyx which ran through the dark walls of his kingdom until his eyes fell upon Persephone. One look and the shadows receded and for the first time ever, incandescence filled his empty soul.” 

“You're a romantic,” he stated with a small, sardonic smile. 

“I'm not,” Hermione refuted calmly. “It's just that Hades' faithfulness to that one woman – a woman who did eventually share his power and his throne as an equal – was an anomaly amongst the Gods and I admire that fidelity along with his firm resolution in refusing to give in to defeat or despair. Still, their relationship didn't begin auspiciously, I'll grant you that.”

“Seeing that you admire Hades, I suppose you will also approve of this next tapestry which tells the story of Orpheus and Eurydice,” Edward surmised as he moved with unnatural grace to the opposite side of the wall.

This tapestry was wider and longer, taking up the majority of the space, its intricate design showing sharper colors. Whereas the first had been faded but beautifully tailored with a scene depicting Hades and Persephone riding side-by-side – as equals – in a chariot drawn by horses, this one was heartbreaking in its composition. This story was as familiar to Hermione as the previous one.

“I assume you know this mythological tale as well,” Edward asked.

Standing so that their shoulders were a hairs-breath apart, Hermione gazed steadily at the wonderful craftsmanship before them and after a slight pause murmured softly, “Of course. It's a shame that their tale doesn't end as pleasantly.”

“Yet, it began beautifully enough,” Edward proposed before adding with slight catch in his voice. “Until Eurydice met with her untimely death.”

 

“You've conveniently left out all that occurred in between those two events,” Hermione admonished lightly. “It's true that she left him far too early and the loss was almost too much for him to bear, but Orpheus didn't wallow in his grief. He took action and literally went to the ends of the earth to regain his lost love; descending into Hell itself...”

“Nevertheless, is was all for naught,” Edward interrupted harshly.

“Only because he lacked conviction of faith,” Hermione answered back crisply.

“Faith,” Edward scoffed, looking down his nose at her.

Hands on her hips, eyes spitting sparks, Hermione reinterpreted forcefully, “Yes, faith. Orpheus was crippled by his lack of faith. Because of that lack, he doubted himself, Eurydice and the rulers he had charmed with his gift of music into a second chance. He doomed himself to a life without love.”

Their gazes clashed for what seemed like eons before Edward said amiably, “Please, avail yourself of all that this room has to offer. Explore and enjoy. You'll find food and drink in the next room as well as an adjoining area to bathe yourself.”

Hermione took the sudden change in topic with aplomb and responded in kind if a bit stiffly. “Thank you and other than the books, I won't touch anything that looks valuable.”

“Have no fear. Although the sculptures and vases are irreplaceable, they are also heavily insured and the Volturi have no end of ways of getting their hands on whatever it is they covet or consider a worthwhile prize to add to their collection.”

There was a strange intensity in those golden orbs which discomfited Hermione to a high degree. “I'll tread carefully,” she promised, and even to her own ears it sounded as if she was heeding a hidden warning.

With a short, curt nod of his copper head, Edward acknowledged her answer with a sincere, “That wold be for the best.” Hermione got the impression that he wanted to say something further on the topic but at the last minute changed venue. “I'll leave you now to your own devices, Miss Granger. If you need anything at all, just call out; I am stationed right outside the door.”

“Thank you,” was all that Hermione could think to say. “Uh, wait... what did Felix say before he left? I'm fluent in several languages but I didn't understand a word of it nor did I recognize the base origin.”

Edward explained to a fascinated Hermione. “It's an ancient language no longer spoken, so it isn't surprising that you didn't recognize it.”

“Oh. Well, what does it mean,” Hermione insisted on knowing.

He paused before saying in a melodic tone, “It's an old Romani blessing and roughly translates to: May your slumber be deep and restful. May your dreams be kind and true. May the light of dawn fall softly on your countenance until we meet again.”

Hermione was rendered momentarily speechless torn between pleasure and embarrassment. “Th...That was very sweet of him,” she finally stuttered, still not sure how she should react.

Lips twisting into a sly smirk, Edward remarked with a raised brow, “As I said before, he likes you.” Without another word, he was across the room and out the door, closing it behind himself.

Hermione took a moment to ponder on her interactions with both vampires. Felix came across as confident in his abilities and was clearly an indomitable, dangerous foe and Hermione was fortunate that she'd prepared herself as well as she had, otherwise she wouldn't be here enjoying this lovely room. She had to remind herself that although he had eventually been kind and charming in his manner toward her, that he was still a monster and a tool of the Volturi. She could not forget that fact at all, not for one millisecond because to do so would be suicide. 

As for Edward? She couldn't deny how captivating his own back-story was bound to be and how much she wanted to dive into it, learn from it and from him. Unlike Felix, he was a scholar. He'd mentioned how books and music were his comfort which meant that they had that much in common. Not many knew that on numerous occasions she too had found salvation in music. Harry and Ron only associated her with books except for when they were hiding at Grimmauld and she'd attempted to teach Ron the basics on the piano. Even then, they hadn't truly looked further than those few bars of Für Elise. 

There was also the fact that periodically Edward had been giving off the impression of having been through a painfully trying ordeal which continued to eat away at him. She struggled with similar issues every day. Mostly in silence and under the cover of darkness so as not to alert the others. She refused to burden them with her agony considering no one was escaping this war without loss and suffering.That was how Hermione recognized a suffering equal to her own in Edward. It was all so very curious.

With a tired shrug, Hermione dismissed it all and began setting up the intricate and impenetrable blood wards. She was anxious to wash the grime of the last few weeks from her aching body and fill her barren stomach which growled in earnest as the delicious aroma of the waiting delicacies reached her nose. Then, then she could appease the hunger of her mind by investigating the aforementioned tomes.


	3. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione thinks on days past and doesn't hold out much hope for a future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, please remember this is not canon-compliant to Twilight or Harry Potter.  
> Second, I'm not toally happy with this chapter even though I literally spent ALL DAY going over it, and over it, and over it. I now have blurry vision and a massive head-ache.  
> Third, this is basically a filler chapter but still important.  
> Fourth, this is not beta'd  
> Fifth, SEE END NOTES FOR TRIGGER WARNING!!!

Chapter 3

 

Hermione immediately set about setting up the wards. They were intricate and advanced, so it took time but it would be time well spent. Her bedroom door may well be robust enough to withstand even the Hogwarts Express rushing at it full tilt, but that still wouldn’t have been enough to prevent her from utilizing magical protection. She knew that her wards were impenetrable which absolutely assured her safety without question. After all, the pledge of these vampires was of no consequence, no matter how pleasingly affable Felix had come across as he escorted her to her present abode.

 

Slumping against the wall after finishing the last line of runes and charms, Hermione wiped a hand over her sweat-slicked forehead. She was tired. Exhausted really. Apparating sapped the magical core when done consecutively between great distances, and when you added in her little engagement with Felix in the throne room… Well, both had really done her in.

 

She felt a momentary flicker of worry when she found a silver tray bearing food and drink in the adjacent room. Had they somehow breached her defenses? No, she was sure that wasn’t the case. More than likely, it had been laid out for her before she’d been brought here. Her stomach growled in empty protest as the delectable aroma from the platter reached her nose. The message was clear, but she wouldn’t touch it until she checked it over for poisons and the like. After determining all was well, she sat down and began to enjoy some much needed nourishment.

 

The meal had been one of the best she’d ever eaten. Still, she couldn’t even come close to finishing the sumptuous offerings. It was hardly surprising that she could barely consume a fourth of the sustenance provided atop the china plate. After almost a year of inadequate quantities of food, she couldn’t tolerate overly rich cuisine, nor large portions. She did, however, drain the elaborate tea pots’ contents, savoring the exquisite flavor of Earl Grey as it lingered on her tongue.

 

Hermione had come to appreciate the every-day comforts that life in an actual home had to offer. Ample food was one such comfort. Magic could do many things, but conjuring food out of thin air wasn’t one of them. While searching for the Horcruxes, they had subsisted mainly on berries, edible roots, and a multitude of insects. Wildlife had been scarce, but regrettably, even if it they had discovered a substantial meat source the option of building a fire to roast it would have been unequivocally dangerous.

 

It had been small consolation to them all when Hermione informed both boys that the majority of insects – which were plentiful and readily available – were pure protein. It had still been gross as hell especially since eating them alive or dead made no difference to how they tasted on the palate. Ron had absolutely refused to partake of any of the spiders which Harry had found and offered up as dinner one evening. Because of his pickiness, he often went without, and a hungry Ronald Weasley was never a pleasant Ronald Weasley.

 

Ron had been the biggest complainer about pretty much everything. On top of his bad attitude, he’d been a jealous twat whenever Harry and she had put their heads together to formulate a plan of action. This did not sit well with Hermione. They had given Harry their solemn promise that they would see this through with him and Hermione’s loyalty and belief in Harry hadn’t wavered one iota. She’d been through several years of Ron’s absurd envious attitude toward Harry and she refused to stand for it anymore.

 

When he’d finally left them for the warm amenities of home, she’d been equal parts relieved, angry and hurt. Those feelings didn’t really change once he had come back to them. Upon his return, he’d been brandishing the Sword of Gryffindor and with it had eliminated a Horcrux, and she’d felt gratitude toward him for that. Then, he tried to claim that it was the locket that had made him act like a royal berk. Hermione was of the opinion that all the Horcrux had done was amplify their worst traits and one of Ron’s was that of a total berk.

 

There had been a time when she’d fancied herself in love with him and had thought that after this whole thing was over – if they survived – that they might even spend the rest of their lives together. Hermione had finally come to the conclusion that in her heart-of hearts, they just weren’t well-suited. Ron needed someone like Lavender Brown who would fawn all over him and boost his ego. Hermione wasn’t made that way. She wasn’t one to bestow false accolades on anyone not deserving of them.

 

When he _had_ finally made his clumsy overtures of affections known to her, she’d shot him down as gently as possible. Not that letting him down kindly and with sensitivity made a whit of difference because he still got angrily nasty, which had hurt her a great deal. It all begged the question... Why would she want someone who failed to respect her and acknowledge her finer traits? Someone who genuinely cared for her wouldn’t treat her like scum.

 

All of this reflection on the past was bringing Hermione down, so she sought another way to occupy her mind, eyes rushing eagerly over the titles in the ancient bookcases lining the far wall. Hmm… should she check out the selection of books or take a long, hot bath?

 

The thought of her weary body soaking in silence, as well as a good washing of her hair, won out over reading what was bound to be fascinating literature. They would still be here when she returned. Right now, she opted to tend to her body’s needs. There’d be time enough to feed her voracious love of the written word.

 

When she walked into the en suite, Hermione gasped in pleasure. Like everything else in the rooms granted her, it was wonderful. A sunken bathing area – that would have rivaled the enormity of Prefects bath – took up an entire corner. Several fluffy towels were draped over a heating rack and various expensive toiletries were offered up for her use.

 

Yes, indeed, time spent in this luxurious bath would go quite the distance in making her feel more human again. This was a major treat for her because a thorough cleansing had been denied her while on the run.

 

They’d done what they could in order to stay clean, but it hadn’t added up to anything more than a wipe down in a creek or lake. Mostly, they made do with a daily Scourgify. There’d been bigger fish to fry so proper hygiene hadn’t exactly been high up on their list of things to accomplish. Horcruxes. That had been their bigger fish to fry. Finding them and destroying them were their priority.

 

The diary had been destroyed their Second Year even if Harry hadn’t know what it had really been at that time. They had Slytherins locket, but other than that, their search had been frustratingly fruitless. Soon after, Ron had done the aforementioned runner and months down the road, while Hermione had been suggesting they stay in the woods and grow old together, Harry confided to her that he’d dreamt of a ring which he was convinced was another Horcrux. So, off they had gone to find this latest item.

 

After disguising themselves, they had asked countless witches and wizards about a person by the name of Tom Riddle. Most, did not recognize the name. Day three had brought the information they needed and faster than you could say flobberworms, they were standing in front of the Gaunt shack. Describing the place as a shack, was being exceedingly generous. Still, Harry’s excitement was palpable and brought a small smile to her lips. This was the place he’d dreamt of, he was positive.

 

Sadly, it was also surrounded by a mess of wards, curses and hexes. It took Hermione who – according to Harry – was a brilliant genius, about a fortnight to manage to eliminate or disarm them all. Hermione hadn’t counted on the natural dangers, so when her foot and broken through several rotted floorboards disturbing a nest of snakes, she screamed as if a league of Dementors were coming straight for her. Harry quickly engaged them in conversation, making Hermione gloriously glad for his ability to speak Parseltongue! Even better, they’d known where the ring was and led them straight to it!

 

They’d had no way to destroy it, so it was another foul soul-infested thing to have to carry around. Not long after, Ron had rejoined them with the Sword of Gryffindor clutched in his meaty paw and then took to destroying the locket after Harry hissed at it until it opened. Barely a second later, Harry had the sword in his hand, stabbing Gaunt’s ring with a victorious yell. Ron had been too busy sucking up to her to see that Harry had pocketed the stone, but Hermione saw. She could have questioned him on it, but figured there was a perfectly logical explanation for his action. The events which followed were pretty much a blur. They broke into Gringotts, retrieved a fourth Horcrux – Hufflepuff's Cup – barely escaped with their lives, destroyed a forth Horcrux and made their way back to towards home.

 

On the way, they had all speculated on where the last two pieces of Voldemorts soul could be hidden. They agreed that Nagini was a viable option. Clearly, the snake was important to its master since Voldemort tended to keep her near. If Nagini _was_ one, that meant that they would have to get close to Voldemort in order to kill her. Not a thrilling prospect. Their thoughts on the other Horcrux were divided. Both Harry and she believed that the last was the lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. This made sense to them considering the majority of the items used to house Riddles twisted soul had been either Founders relics or of great prestige.

 

Ron disagreed. No surprise there because that’s all he ever seemed to do. He’d gone back to being as miserable as before he left, but without the benefit of a Horcrux as an excuse for his testiness. According to him, in his infinite wisdom, the Diadem was a myth, and a silly one at that. While Ron slept, she and Harry discussed their theory and came to the decision to eventually head back to Hogwarts to search for the Diadem with or without Ron.

 

The return trip had taken longer than expected. Mostly due to Ron’s idiocy. It appeared that he’d finally reckoned that she was of the female persuasion and one worth pursuing. By this point, Hermione was sick to death of him _and_ his company. His incessant whining that she forgive him for deserting them only served to piss her off more. Couldn’t he suss out for himself that she was still smarting from the entire thing and needed time to work through it? Was he honestly that dim?

 

When awkward actions of a romantic nature began to rear their ugly head, she’d tried letting Ron down easy, but he persisted. He’d sit close enough to suffocate, repeatedly tried taking her hand, or whisper – what he thought – were words of wooing in her ear. Poor Harry didn’t know what to make of it all being torn between embarrassment for her plight and a mixture of exasperation and bewilderment at Ron.

 

It all came to head the day he pushed her up against a tree and tried to snog her. Faster than the eye could see, Hermione’s wand was in her hand. A mass of yellow birds erupted from out of the tip viciously attacking Ron, but that had been nothing to the verbal lashing he’d been on the receiving end of as he flapped at the birds circling and pecking his face. Infuriated and humiliated, Ron stomped off and was gone for quite some time. So yeah, it took awhile getting back home because apparently tantrums took time and energy.

 

The three of them had been at Grimmauld less than a day before finding themselves engaged in a violent skirmish at Hogwarts. They’d eaten a meal provided by Mrs. Weasley, but bathing was taking a back burner so that she and Harry – and occasionally Ron – apprised everyone of where they had been, what they had been doing, how far along they’d come with their mission, and that their next move was going to Hogwarts in search of the Diadem.

 

Ron had tried to argue against their plan but she and Harry held firm. Harry had laid it on the line by telling him that he was welcome to come and help, but if he was just going to be a prick about it, he could leave his lily-white arse behind. The situation was just starting to get heated when Professor McGonagall’s Patronus erupted into the room declaring the Hogwarts was under attack.

 

After Voldemort and his forces had retreated, they’d all returned to Grimmauld where Ron had alerted his family to the fact that she had outright refused his romantic advances. Worse still, he’d told them that she’d had no good reason to refuse him and that she’d been being petty because he’d made one lousy mistake. He’d killed a Horcrux for Merlins sake! That should be enough to redeem himself in her eyes! He’d bellowed out the last two statements so loudly that it woke up Sirius’ bint of a Mother.

 

Ginny and Mrs. Weasley added to the horrid atmosphere by acting personally affronted by her repudiation of the youngest Weasley boy. Hermione was being ostracized and treated poorly by them both. Mr. Weasley had tried to intervene, but they held firm in their convictions that Hermione was being a head-strong, unforgiving cow.

 

Later, Ron had snarkily informed her that it wasn’t as if suitors were lining up to ask for her hand. That acidic comment had not only hit a sensitive mark, but had been so unexpected from someone claiming to be a friend, and potential partner, that she’d burst into tears.

 

With anyone else, her response would have had the reverse affect than what it had on him. Ron didn’t seem to care that he’d deeply wounded her. He’d snottily added that she might want to take time to think on that little fact and he might... _might_ be willing to give her a second chance after she came to her senses.

 

Mrs. Weasley harrumphed, stating that if it were up to her, her dear boy wouldn’t be offering up his time and affections even if Hermione did decide to comply with Ron’s wishes. Again, this was a dagger to her heart as she had always thought of Mrs. Weasley as her maternal figure in the Wizarding World. Hermione had been understandably devastated by both Weasley women's words and actions.

 

Fortunately, Harry had ended up being her ally in this matter, as had the majority of the Order. Harry thought Ron was being a barmy arse, and let him know it. He went so far as to inform Ginny that she was being a right stupid bint and that Molly could take her serving spoon and stick it where the sun didn’t shine.

 

All their former ties to the Weasely family were falling apart, and they were still literally locked in with them at Grimmauld. The whole thing was a marvelous mess that no one seemed inclined to try to clean up. Yes, the old Black Manor was rife with seething indignation and silent accusations once again. Somewhere in the great beyond, Hermione was confident that some such Black ancestor or another was brimming with pride

 

It was then that Kingsley informed her of this mission. Harry wasn’t for it at all and Ron just jeered at the idea of Hermione being able to traverse the distance required let alone face the Volturi. Harry had again come to her defense by telling Ron that his qualms about Hermione representing the Order had nothing to do with her being incapable, but that he was concerned for her safety.

 

Then, he’d gone on to say that Ron had better shut it and give it a rest or he’d punch him on his freckled snout. Ron had gaped like a fish, then turned and stomped away. The remainder of her stay at Grimmauld found Ron actively ignoring Hermione which suited her just fine.

 

“Blast it all, Hermione,” she yelled out loud. “Stop being such a twit about Ronald Weasley and get your head in the fucking game! You are going to take care of _you_ right now! Get in that tub and relax!”As she was slipping off her shirt, she caught sight of herself in the floor-length mirror and gasped.

 

Gods! She looked emaciated as well as grubby. Involuntarily, her gaze moved to the constant reminder of Dolohov. Gingerly, she fingered the top edge of the thick, pink scar. It was grotesque with uneven patches of mended skin pulled tightly together. In some places it looked like two entwined ropes with frayed edges spreading out at various angles.

 

Lightly, she trailed her fingers down the raised center to where it traveled over the curve of her left breast, between the shallow valley of the small duos mounds of flesh, ghosting over protruding ribs until her hand trailed lower, absently noting how the ragged scar narrowed slightly the closer it came to its tail end.

 

Her trousers hid the remainder of this monstrosity from view, but she knew it edged beyond, bisecting the planes of her flat stomach stretching its wicked tentacle to the area just above the juncture of her sex. Madame Pomfrey had done an excellent job of keeping her alive, but there had been nothing in all of her esteemed medical experience which could have made Hermione completely whole.

 

Tears burned hotly behind her eyes. Not because she was a vain person but because Madam Pomfrey had told her that it was doubtful that she would ever be able to conceive, such was the darkness in the curse which Dolohov had thrown at her. The Matron had been kind, but no amount of kindness could take away the awful sting of being informed that you were barren. She had told no one. Not even Harry. Pity would serve nothing and no one. Least of all, her. She planned on taking this secret to her grave.

 

Hermione wasn’t prone to being melodramatic. She was a realist in the truest sense of the word. Twice now she’d almost died. Once at the end of Dolohov’s wand, and the other at the wretched hand of that psychotic bitch Bellatrix LeStrange.

 

Thoughts of that mad woman brought her to the other scar on her body. Mudblood. A vile word. A vile word which had been carved into her forearm with vicious glee. It was still slightly sore and would never fade completely.

 

So, here she was, battle-worn and battle-scarred. How much longer until her life was forfeit? To Hermione’s thinking, that day wasn’t far off. They had barely beaten back the first attack on Hogwarts.

 

Thankfully, the castle was sentient enough to use some dangerous magic which sent the enemy head over arse with enough force to chase them away to fight another day. It had helped, but they’d still lost many fine people who’d been fighting on the front lines.

 

Remus – sweet, wonderful, heroic Remus – who’d taken a curse meant for an unsuspecting Luna. He had called out a warning before leaping to cover the girls back from an attack which had come from behind; his lax form dropping lifelessly under the dark, green burst of magical energy.

 

Even in death, he was an unknowing protector of the defenseless. His inanimate body had fallen haphazardly over her in such a way as to keep her safe from further fire as Voldemort’s followers receded from the battlefield. Afterward, the blonde girl had wept brokenly as she’d cradled his shaggy brown head in her lap, stroking his scarred face tenderly while softly begging him to wake up.

 

Hermione hadn’t cried. She hadn’t mourned. There hadn’t been time. Three days later she’d been sent out here to the Volturi. No, there hadn’t been time. Didn’t the Bible say there was a time for all things? She was certain that it did. Yes, yes she remembered some of it now.

 

A time to laugh… would that time ever come again? A time to dance… she had danced, with Harry and it had been one of the only bright, hopeful times during the Horcrux hunt. A time to kill… if that time ever presented itself to Hermione, she would welcome it with a vengeance, sparing no one she considered an enemy! A time to love… Love? Hermione snorted derisively while rubbing her tired eyes. Doubtful that she would ever have _that_ time. A time to weep… Yes, certainly. Not yet though! Not yet dammit!

 

Now was _not_ the time to weep. Later, later she would weep for those who had given up their lives for freedom from oppression and hate. For Remus, for Colin, for Cho, for Susan, for Professor Sinistra, for Ernie, and for countless, countless others! That time would come. Yes, it surely would, but not now and not today. Of one thing Hermione was certain… when that time did come, she would embrace every bit of it and weep enough tears fit to over-flow the River Styx.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER MENTIONS NOT BEING ABLE TO CONCIEVE A CHILD!

**Author's Note:**

> I am in the process of updating the rest of my stories. Honest! That said, updates for this one will be sporadic.  
> Enjoy!


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